


south falling

by 99royalty



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode 3x23 Coda, F/M, Seperation, greg and larry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99royalty/pseuds/99royalty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake hates goodbyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	south falling

“So. Putting the moving plans on hold for a little bit.” Jake tries to smile, something he knows he’s usually very good at, but it feels like his face is crumbling, despite it. 

The car that will take Jake and Holt to the airport is waiting some ten metres away, the suitcases in the back, an officer in the driver’s seat, and Jake has a small box of stuff from his desk in his hands. It’s horribly reminiscent of that time two years ago, when he laid himself out for Amy to see. So much is different now, better and worse.

Back then, he’d at least had a time frame. 

It could be six months this time. It could be six weeks, or even six days (assuming Figgis miraculously sees what a terrible asshole he’s been and decides to turn himself in). It could be six years, though Jake’s found his breathing quickens whenever he thinks of that possibility and he has to mutter lines from Die Hard to himself to stop from hyperventilating. 

“I can redecorate a little for when you get back,” Amy says, with a smile that looks as painful as Jake’s feels. 

“I hope that means updating to the 21st – or even the 20th – century,” Jake says, lightly. “But I still say you should move into my place.”

“You say wrong. Mine’s place is bigger – you _know_ it makes more sense,” she says with half a sigh and it’s almost, _almost_ , like it should be. Arguing about the apartment they’ll be living in together without the promise of separation and threat of death weighing them down. 

“How about if _I_ catch Figgis we move into my place?” he says with another painful grin. It’s more a joke than anything, not something that’s even really at all possible from where Jake is going. Figgis won’t be in Florida, anywhere near Jake and Holt. They’ve made sure. Figgis _will_ be in New York, near Amy and the others.

“Jake, you know the rules. No contact, and no trying to solve cases!” Amy says, eyes widening somewhat. She’s trying to hide how much the thought of him chasing after Figgis is scaring her, like he really could, really would, he can see it, her eyes are betraying her. “Especially this one.”

“I know, I know. I promise,” he says immediately, genuinely, and sees her relax, just a little.

Jake’s smile slipped before he could stop it, the moment he heard the words, “no contact,” once again, and he feels his stomach writhe uncomfortably, closes his eyes.  


It isn’t like they haven’t done something like this before, just done it, a little more than a week ago when Amy was in Texas.

This is going to be different than before though. Worse. Before, Jake got almost daily updates from Charles about how they were doing at the prison, including text messages and phone calls. One of those phone calls had actually been with Amy, way before she’d finished the operation, even though they’d both known it wasn’t strictly allowed. Jake had barely thought about why it was against the rules until later that night, lying alone in bed, face buried into the pillow on the side of the bed Amy slept, thinking about the possibility of someone overhearing their conversation, realising she was a cop…

“Jake,” Amy murmurs, and he opens his eyes when he feels her hand cup his cheek. “I’ll catch him,” she says with fierce determination, before she seems to catch herself, glancing quickly at the entrance to the precinct where Rosa, Gina, Charles and Terry are still saying goodbye to Holt. “ _We’ll_ catch him.”

“I know,” he says softly, because he’s known Amy Santiago for almost nine years, and her arrest record is superb. He trusts her with this. He trusts all of them. He doesn’t trust Figgis, or his men. He doesn’t trust the world that now surrounds Amy and the Nine-Nine.

“Just – go to Florida, and relax, go to whatever job they give you. And… be careful.”

“You’re the one that told me no one’s ever been hurt when they’re under the Witness Protection Programme, babe,” he points out, squeezing the corners of the box in his hands. There’s a slight pause. “You be careful too,” he says, and swallows, throat constricting. Amy’s the one in danger now. Figgis has no idea about where he and Holt are going, there’s no way, but he knows where they worked, he knows about the Nine-Nine. It’s Amy, and Rosa, Charles, Terry, and even Gina, they’re the ones who have to be careful.

For the tenth time in one day Jake wishes she were coming with him.

(There was a moment when they thought she might. They were in the home of one of the OEO officers, and sat opposite a man named Johnson who was working to put him and Holt into the Witness Security program. Jake didn’t trust him, though Holt assured him that Johnson had been screened thoroughly, and didn’t even live and work in New York. 

He’d asked Jake if he had a partner. By partner, he meant partner by marriage. They’d already discussed Holt’s situation with Kevin, who would be staying in Paris – where it was safer, easier, though Holt’s jaw was tight while he agreed.

And suddenly Jake wanted marry Amy more than he ever had. They’d be getting married anyway, eventually. Why not now? Why not get married, and she could move with him, and it would be bearable – hard, very hard, but so much more bearable. Their eyes met, and he knew she was (at least in part) thinking the same thing, until Johnson brought it crashing down around them.

It made more sense, he’d pointed out, to keep Amy in New York where she was needed. With Jake and Holt gone, they would be two detectives down already. Figgis didn’t even know Amy and Charles existed since they hadn’t been at the hospital and none of his men had seen them. Except Annderson, but he certainly had no contact with Figgis anymore.

“As one of the two people aware of this operation and for which Figgis’ men don’t have any kind of physical IDs for, Detective Santiago and Detective Boyle are very valuable here,” Johnson had said. Jake didn’t like the way he said the word “valuable”, and was already picturing his girlfriend and his best friend in dangerous undercover operations. He’d had to bite down on his tongue and think of more lines from Die Hard.) 

“Love you,” he says, trying not to think about how this will be the last time he’ll say it, “so much.”

Amy's expression softens. “I love you so much.”

He’s staring at Amy, trying to memorise her face, her expression, the way her eyes stare at him with such openness and pain, when he hears the precinct doors open and the others come out. It’s already time for them to go, apparently. Charles looks ready to burst into tears, and Jake can’t blame him. He’s said goodbye to all of them, and has tried so hard to not make it seem like a _real_ goodbye, a goodbye for years and years, but it’s hard. It’s draining. He’s been close to crying himself.

“Larry,” Holt says, and Jake forces himself to look up in some sort of recognition. 

(Holt had started calling him that a few hours ago. “It’s important we get used to our new identities as soon as possible,” he’d said.)

“Greg,” he replies, the name feeling strange while he addresses his Captain.

He turns back to Amy and kisses her, deeply, suddenly unaware of their friends standing metres away, a hand moving awkwardly from the box he’s holding to around Amy’s back. It doesn’t last long enough, the sound of a door opening, and murmuring from the officer that’ll be taking them to the airport, bringing them both back to the present.

“You ready?” the officer asks. 

Jake nods, swallows, still watching Amy, and forces his hand back to the box of work supplies he won’t even need for the foreseeable future. Holt places a hand onto Amy’s shoulder on his way to the car, giving her a slight nod. It seems to break her reverie and she kisses Jake softly on the cheek one last time before pulling away.

The moment Amy’s hand is brought away from its place around his neck _(no contact)_ Jake feels himself falling, in a southerly direction, toward Florida, and is quite sure he won’t stop until he’s able to feel Amy’s hands on him again, until either she’s there to catch him, or he plummets to the ground without her.


End file.
